


Clone-Napped

by Spoon888



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Accidental kidnapping, An I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant Fic, Gen, M/M, Mech Preg, Megatron Doesn't Know What This Has To Do With Him, Optimus Prime Has Discovered Fatherhood And He Likes It, Starscream Wants His 'Clone' Back, With Additional Doesn't Know What A Baby Is Anyway Vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-01-03 00:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: The All Spark fragment brought more to life than just Starscream's deactivated frame. When the Autobots come across what appears to be a rather small, fat, and completely unintelligible Starscream, they're not sure what to make of it. But Optimus knows he can't just leave it.





	1. Chapter 1

Having long ago resigned himself to the idea that he was essentially a reanimated corpse, alive only by the grace of the All Spark shard lodged in his forehead, Starscream had learned to roll with the punches.

Down on all fours he squinted at the fist-sized capsule he had just had the pleasure of... _producing_. It was made of the same grey as protoform armour, and his sensors detected life emitting from within, but it was a featureless, motionless, silent object. Starscream recalled stories of techno-organics and their penchant for laying 'eggs' in unwilling victims, and wracked his processor for an occasion in which that might have happened to him.

He poked it with a claw.

It cracked.

He lurched back with a frightful noise and hid behind one of the nearby support pillars of the derelict building he'd (crash) landed through the roof of when crippling cramps began to wrack his frame -the very sensation that had led to the emergence of this _thing_.

He poked his head out and, as he watched the object shudder and wriggle, realised he hadn't broken it after all. Warm lilac light oozed through the growing crack as it widened and the capsule began to open. Starscream approached again, this time with weapons armed lest whatever face-hugger was inside decided to launch itself at him.

Feeling braver than he really had any right to be, he leapt forward, poked at the object with the end of his nullray, and then jumped back to what he had deemed a safe distance.

Nothing happened.

He let his shoulders slump in annoyance, moving closer again, "What on Cybertron _are_ you?"

He reached out to wrap his hand around it, and the second his armour touched the cracked object, it zapped him. He jumped back with a hiss, shaking the sting from his hand, too busy cursing under his breath to notice the surge of purple light and the click and whir of a transformation sequence.

He was still sucking on his electrocuted finger when he turned back around and saw -for lack of a better description- a squashed version of himself.

He stared.

It stared back, optics too big for it's head, legs stubby and fat, face round, chin nowhere near as long and elegant...

"Oh wonderful," he placed his hands on his hips and sighed. "_Another_ clone."

* * *

It wasn't unusual to get calls from the harried staff at Sumdac Tower asking very kindly, though somewhat hysterically, if someone could come down and 'shoo off' the large metal bird that liked to terrorise their staff.

Optimus sighed deeply. Starscream. Again.

Optimus wasn't familiar enough with Decepticon behavioural patterns, but from what he could decipher of Ratchet's grumbling, seekers like Starscream had a predisposition for claiming high ground and tall towering structures as their own, and in Detroit, buildings didn't get much taller than Sumdac Tower.

It wasn't a particularly pressing issue, given that Starscream was a rouge and with no backup, was often unwilling to put up much of a fight against a group of Autobots for territorial rights over the roof of a skyscraper. It never took much to shift him. Usually a warning shot of Optimus's fire extinguisher had him hissing and spitting all the way back to the city junkyard, but the simple knowledge that he'd be back next week, terrorising the humans and working Captain Fanzone towards an early retirement, was exhausting and disheartening.

"Autobots," he called, with little to no emotion. "Roll out."

"Can't summon any more enthusiasm, Boss Bot?" Bumblebee joked.

"Just roll out, Bee."

* * *

"Why are you always sticky?" Starscream asked his stunted little clone when he set it down in the armchair he'd found at the junkyard and flown all the way back to the top of Sumdac Tower.

Human sized as it was, it fit his malformed companion perfectly, and the clone snuggled down into the worn-out padding happily. A few springs were poking out that, and that might have made it uncomfortable, but his defected clone made short work of them, yanking them out with claws too big for him to have any real dexterity, and throwing them.

One bounced off of Starscream's head. With a grumble he picked it up and flicked it over the edge of the tower.

And surprise surprise, it was _sticky_.

The stickiness was the reason for the armchair in the first place. Starscream couldn't very well put his small companion in his cockpit so the little monster could have free reign to smear his tiny greasy hands over all his controls and upholstery.

The clone wasn't particularly intelligent or dexterous either. So knowing Starscream's luck, he would probably ejector-seat himself into the stratosphere anyway.

"Now I need to get fuel, little minion," he told him. "So stay here and- hey-_hey_!" He snapped his digits when a bird squawked overhead and stole away the clone's short attention span. "Are you listening?"

The clone stared blankly; mouth open, optics blinking.

Starscream was going to lose his mind.

"Stay here," he pointed at the ground firmly. "_Here_. You understand? Don't make any noise, don't chew on anything, and don't throw yourself off the edge of the building. Just- just don't draw attention to yourself, alright?"

The blank stare he was being given was not a good indication that his small clone was taking in _anything_ he said. The thought of leaving him alone up here was looking less and less appealing with every vacant blink. But what was the alternative? Starve? Take him with him? And when he was inevitably attacked by those discount Autobots or worse, that maniac Megatron who just couldn't let a couple harmless little attempts on his life go, what then?

The All Spark fragment revitalised him, but his little friend was unlikely to be so lucky, and short and stupid though he was, he was the only clone Starscream had left.

"I won't be long," he told him, stroking claws over his little head. The clone tweeted happily and turned into the touch.

Had Starscream possessed a spark, it would have warmed.

Thinking of the temperature -it was chilly up here- Starscream picked up the ripped bed sheet he'd also pilfered from a trash heap and threw it with flourish over his accidental creation, hiding him from view. The sheet moved around for a few moments, before stilling. Good.

With one last check to ensure the clone wasn't suffocating himself with the sheet, Starscream ignited his thrusters and shot into the air with a burst of purple.

What was he worrying about anyway? The tower's roof was far out of reach of any meddlesome Autobots.

* * *

Unable to enter the building and use the elevator, it took Optimus ten minutes to scale Sumdac Tower with his grapple gun, axe, and a fair bit of property damage- with Prowl not far behind him. Ratchet, Bulkhead, and a dejected Bumblebee watched from the ground, with blockade of police vehicles and a red faced Fanzone shouting and pointing and likely mere moments away from getting plucked up by Ratchet and dumped in a nearby fountain to 'cool off'.

When he reached the top, Optimus signalled silently for Prowl to hold back whilst he assessed the danger. He poked it head up, optics rolling left then right, but there was no maroon coloured jet from the Pit ready to shriek and launch himself at them in attack.

"He's not here," Optimus called down to Prowl over the wind, hooking his hands over the edge and lifting himself over. "Though it does look like he's moved in."

Prowl joined him on the ledge, visor hiding most of the disgust in his expression. "What is all this junk?"

Optimus had to agree. Starscream was often spotted around the junkyards, either scavenging for parts or having been dumped there by his former Decepticon comrades. It appeared he'd been bringing trinkets from there back with him, like the magpie birds Sari often pointed out to Prowl. But nothing here could be considered a treasure.

Most of the junk had been arranged and shaped together to form furniture more suitable for a mech Starscream's size. Empty oil drums were used to prop up sheets of metal -the sort used for roofing or walls in buildings much like their own warehouse- to make the most uncomfortable looking berth Optimus had ever seen.

It appeared Starscream wasn't much of a builder.

There was also a lumpy armchair covered in a sheet. It was human-sized and nowhere near large enough for a mech like Starscream's get any use out of.

"We should look around," Optimus suggested, not because he was particularly suspicious, but because he'd just climbed over two hundred floors and he wasn't prepared to make the trip back down again just to tell everyone Starscream had already gone.

And until Sari's father had the tower's force field up and running again there wouldn't be much they could do to stop Starscream from coming back.

Prowl moved swiftly towards the armchair, drawn to it by something Optimus hadn't seen.

"What is it?" He asked, just as Prowl seized the edge of the sheet and pulled it away-

-To reveal a small, round, maroon and grey coloured bot. It blinked at them. 

They blinked back.

Optimus leant close to Prowl, "Is- is that _Starscream_!?"

* * *

It wasn't Starscream.

Because Starscream would have had the sense and self-preservation to fly away during the hazardous journey back down the tower in Optimus's arms.

Optimus left his axe behind and spelunked down, the fast decent drawing squeals of what sounded like delight from the squirming bundle of armour in his arms.

Ratchet had noticed something was amiss, and was stood at the bottom of the tower were Optimus was due to land, grumpy expression prepared. Optimus peered at the top of the tiny Decepticon's head and could hear the lecture aLready. "_First Sari, now this? What have I told you about leaving things where you found them?!"_

Bumblebee and Bulkhead were too busy occupied with Sari herself to notice him bringing something back down. The young human had been evacuated from the tower along with the rest of the staff when Starscream had appeared, as per standard procedure. She now seemed rather disappointed at the lack of Decepticon Aft Kicking that was occurring, but when Optimus's pedes touched the pavement she was the first to run forward, a dejected frown pulling at her face.

"Where's the-?"

Optimus turned and she stopped, eyes the size of dinner plates.

Optimus shifted his grip on the tiny Decepticon when it reached for her with grabby claws and tired to tumble out of his arms. "Er," Optimus began.

"Is that a _baby_?!" She squealed, pitch drawing the harsh scrutiny of Ratchet.

"Er," Optimus said again.

Prowl dropped to the pavement behind him, straightening elegantly. "We are unsure of the protoform's origins-"

"It's a _baby_!" Sari squealed, sure of her assessment and unwilling to listen to anyone else. She bounced on the balls of her worn sneakers in excitement. "Lemme see! Lemme see!"

"It's a _what_?" Bumblebee zoomed over, performing a donut around Optimus before transforming into bipedal mode. His optics, like Sari's, brightened with curiosity. He leant too close though, because the tiny Decepficon frowned and batted Bumblebee in the face. Bumblebee stumbled back into Bulkhead and the Decepticon dissolved into devious little giggles.

"Hey!" Bulkhead complained, righting Bumblebee.

"Give it to me," Ratchet growled, extending his servo to retrieve their... Prisoner?.

Optimus looked between the happy little face in his arms and Ratchet's tired grumpy one.

"It's-"

"A Con," Ratchet growled. "I don't care how small and cute it looks. Remember Soundwave?"

"This feels different," Optimus protested, taking one of the Decepticon's waving arms and inspecting it. "He doesn't even have any weapons-"

"Yet," Ratchet growled.

"What are you guys talking about?" Sari asked from below, giving herself neck ache with how far back she had her head tilted. "It's a baby Decepticon, isn't it?"

"We do not have... _babies_," Prowl informed her, sounding marginally disgusted with the idea. "Our methods of reproduction are somewhat different to your own."

Optimus recalled Sari once explaining to him where tiny humans came from and felt his cheeks warm. He glanced at the small Decepticon again, but couldn't help seeing some similarity between him and organic infants he had seen. It was curious and uncoordinated and didn't seem remotely capable of recognising friend from foe.

"Looks like a baby to me," Sari crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air.

"It's a defected clone!" Ratchet argued, "We should put it in cuffs, call the elite guard-"

"Er, not sure any of our cuffs will fit," Bulkhead scratched the back of his helm, extending a finger for the Decepticon to grab. His tiny hand couldn't fit around the width of Bulkhead's pinky.

"Then put it back where you found it!" Ratchet was starting to lose his temper.

"Ratchet," Optimus protested, looking between the old medic and the Decepticon. "It was all alone up there-"

"It's a Decepticon!"

"It's a _baby_!" Sari yelled underfoot again.

Ratchet's optic had begun to twitch. "What is it you want to do, Prime? Take it back with us?"

Optimus looked at the Decepticon again, spark softening at his clueless little face. He thought of climbing back up the tower and leaving him on the cold, trash-strewn roof were Starscream had abandoned him, and knew he wouldn't be able to do it.

The rest of his team seemed to realise they were keeping him in the same moment Optimus himself did.

"I'm not rooming with it," Bumblebee joked.

"That's fine." Optimus smiled at his little discovery, ignoring Ratchet's face-palm and furious muttering. "He can stay with me."


	2. Chapter 2

Starscream's scavenging trip had become a successful one after he'd found a dozen unattended oil drums by the docks. He wasn't entirely sure what his clone could fuel on, but hopefully the relatively nutritious organic oil was as appealing to the little minion's taste-sensors as all the dirty trash he liked to shove in his mouth and chew on when Starscream wasn't looking.

He must have been hungry at any rate, Starscream thought, glancing at the tiny teeth marks still imbedded into the edges of his wings where the clone had chewed on them when Starscream had last dared to pick him up. He hoped the little idiot was simply clueless as to what was and wasn't acceptable sustenance, and not actually cannibalistic.

Though it wouldn't be much of a stretch of the imagination if he was, considering how the _other_ traitors had turned out.

Sumdac Tower glimmered in the setting sun, it's glass windows a warm burning orange. Starscream flew low through the city, entertaining himself with swooping fast and tight between the skyscrapers. 'Detroit' reminded him of scaled-down, primitive Vos from so many years ago -before he had been banished from Cybertron along with the rest of his defeated faction. Stupid Megatron.

He flew up the side of Sumdac Tower, moving too fast to see the shocked faces of the organics working inside the building as his underbelly went shooting past. He transformed midair when he reached the top, hovering above the roof before reversing his thrusters and landing elegantly on his feet.

"I'm home!" He called, unloading the oil drums from his subspace. He stacked them one-by-one at his feet, building them into a little pyramid. He didn't hear a response from the clone, so he glanced up to where the sheet was still draped over the armchair.

He rolled his optics. Stupid little thing had probably fallen asleep under there. He placed the last oil drum on top of his pyramid, surveyed it proudly, then moved towards the armchair to show his minion his masterpiece.

"Wake up, you useless little-"

He whipped the sheet off to reveal an empty armchair. Odd. His clone's stumpy legs and disproportionate frame meant he couldn't _stand_ without a great deal of wobbling and clutching at Starscream's ankle, let alone _walk_.

Starscream dropped the sheet and ducked to glance under the chair. Not there either.

"Clone?!" He called, looking left and right, realising he should have had the foresight to give him a designation to respond too. "_Clone_?!"

He snapped his claws and whistled, but there were no answering tweets, no nonsensical excited babbles.

A horrible pressure began to build at the base of his throat, and there was a weight in his chest, growing heavier with every passing second of silence.

"Oh Primus," a sudden, traumatising idea popped into his head as worst case scenarios inevitably began to manifest.

He threw himself to the edge of the roof and stared over it, magnifying his vision to scan the sidewalk at the base of the tower, searching for the splatter of energon or tiny scattered limbs or anything that might indicate his poor little clone had fallen. "_Clone?!_" he called, vocaliser cracking.

But the humans below were busy rushing here and there, their stupid prehistoric organic brains desperate to get them back to their homes before dark, before the predators came out. No one was pausing to oogle the tragic death of a tiny clone. Relief washed over him, but the sinking feeling in the pit on his tanks did not let up.

He sat back on his heels, stroking his chin in thought. The clone wasn't _on_ the roof, but he hadn't fallen _off_ the roof, and given how long Starscream had spent glowering at the useless stumpy little wing numbs on his back, he certainly couldn't have _flown off_ the roof.

A bird squawked overhead and Starscream tilted his chin up to glare at it suspiciously. Organic birds were unlikely to mistake his clone as easy prey, or even be capable of carrying him off.

"Clone?" He called again, softer this time, in case his landing had frightened him and he was simply hiding- he was a cowardly little thing at times.

Starscream crawled on his hands and knees on the filthy roof, grimacing when his hand landed in a puddle. He shook it out, disgusted, "Ugh, Clone! it's _me_! Stop this ridiculousness. I brought fuel! I-"

He stopped, optics landing on the glimmer of red, white, and blue. He raced forwards on all fours quickly and grasped the handle of an _Autobot_ axe.

That wannabe _Prime's_ axe.

He squeezed so hard the metal warped in his grip, his denta clenched and gaskets hissing with growing pressure.

How _low_ they could sink. How devious and cruel did they have to be to separate a defenceless stupid little clone from it's master? How underhanded of them to have waited until he was unattended.

"Autobot _filth_!" He roared, rising to his pedes and brandishing the axe at the sky.

The Autobots had stolen from him once before. This time, he wasn't going to let them get away with it.

* * *

The 'defected clone' -as Ratchet liked to call him- was certainly vocal. Optimus couldn't deny that the little guy shared a lot of traits with the much larger, _angrier_ Decepticon he appeared to match coding with, so maybe Ratchet was right after all, and he _was_ a clone?

The screaming had started halfway back to their base, when the tiny Bot, sat in the passenger seat of Optimus's altmode, had leant out of the open window to squeal and point at a passenger plane as it came in to land overhead. Optimus had slowed and let him watch the plane disappear beneath the skyline before accelerating back up to speed again, but his passenger's soft, curious noises quickly escalated into whines and squirms -before he tried to climb out of the window.

Optimus had swerved in a panic to stop him from falling out and almost took Bumblebee right off the road. Car horns blared, tires squealed, and Bumblebee shouted a word Optimus had only ever heard out of the mouth of Fanzone before.

Now secured by seat-belts he did _not_ appreciate, the small Decepticon was sobbing and hiccuping in Optimus's front passenger seat, smearing his wet claws all over the inside of the now _closed_ window.

Optimus sighed and kept the rest of the ride back as gentle as possible.

"I told you you should have left that thing where you found it!" Ratchet shouted the second they were back in robot-mode and the Decepticon's cries were no longer muffled. Optimus held him at arms length, watching little legs kick weakly, face scrunched up and wet and flushed pink with energon.

"I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Is he glitched?" Bulkhead ventured bravely closer. He turned big innocent optics to Ratchet. "Can you fix him?"

"No, I can't fix it!" Ratchet snapped, hands planted on hips. "There's nothing wrong with it. This is just what Deceoticons do! Make a whole lot of fuss over nothing."

"You guys are so dumb!" Sari jumped out of Bumblebee and raced over, pigtails bouncing along with her exuberant step. "Babies cry all the time."

"This is _not_ a baby," Prowl reminded her.

"Maybe if you stopped _dangling_ him-" Sari ignored Prowl and pointed reproachfully up at Optimus, "and gave him a hug instead, he'd stop crying."

Optimus looked between the wet, sticky, squirming frame he was holding, and Sari's firm, judgmental expression helplessly. With no one else coming forward to offer advice, he brought the Decepticon closer, resting him against his chest, trying not to grimace when tiny, sticky, _clawed_ fingers found all his armour seams and a wet face smudged his finish. The wails softened to sad hiccups.

Sari nodded in approval as Optimus patted the small Decepticon's back with a mechanical, "There, there."

"Hey, it worked!" Bumblebee stared at Sari with a newfound appreciation. "Where'd you leant that?"

"Everyone knows how to calm a screaming baby, dummy."

"It's _not_ a baby!" Ratchet and Prowl corrected in unison.

Sari continued to ignore them. "So what are you gonna call him?"

Optimus's optics reset to a brighter setting. "Call him?"

"She's right, Boss Bot," Bulkhead said gruffly. "Little guy needs a name."

"Won't he want to name himself?" Bumblebee wondered.

"How's he gonna do that when he can't talk?"

"We don't know that he can't talk," Prowl folded his arms. "Decepticons are known for cheap tricks. 'Deception' is in their very name."

Sari looked between the tiny being in Optimus's arms, currently chewing on his own hand, his wing nubs twitching with every quiet hiccup, and Prowl's stern face. "Sure. Real evil mastermind you're got here."

"I don't know any Decepticon designations," Optimus continued meekly.

"We could call him an Autobot designation," Bumblebee said excitedly.

"We're not doing that! You'll give it a complex!" Ratchet barked from across the base, where he was pretending not to be involved in any of this.

"Then I'll name him a Earth name," Sari declared, and squinted at the Decepticon for a moment before declaring, "'Sticky'."

Bumblebee nodded. "It is accurate."

"We're not naming him 'Sticky'," Optimus said softly. "He'd not a pet, Sari."

"What about 'Screamy'?"

"Sari-"

"After Starscream!" She insisted. "He's his dad, right?"

"Cybertronian's do not have parents," Prowl reminded her, though it fell on deaf ears.

"He does appear to be a Starscream Clone," Optimus relented, studying the Starscream-like optics and the even more Starscream-like claws. "But naming him 'Screamy' seems unfair-"

"Not to mention insulting," Ratchet muttered.

"What about 'Star'?" Sari suggested, smiling. "'Star' is a nice name."

"Seconded!" Bumblebee stuck his hand in air and elbowed Bulkhead.

"Uh, yeah! I vote for 'Star'."

With three young, eager faces staring at him, Optimus sighed. "Star is it," he said, wiping some of the lingering wetness from the little Decepticon's cheeks. "I guess we better fuel him now."

There was a sharp, sardonic laugh from across the base. Everyone looked up at Ratchet's smirking face. "Good luck with that!"

* * *

Starscream didn't know where the Autobots made base, nor did he know how outnumbered he would be. If he wanted to take his clone back, and stop both his coding _and_ the valuable cloning technology that had created him (technology that he himself was yet to understand) from getting into greedy Autobot hands, he needed to move quickly.

The future of the Decepticons as a whole was at risk now, and as much as he detested that fool Megatron, he still believed in the Decepticon cause. Even if most of his miserable former-faction were a bunch of idiotic sycophants obsessed with that hack of a leader.

Night had fallen, but having been thrown -literally- out of the Decepticon 'Base Of Operations' several times before, he knew exactly where to go, transforming outside the cave entrance and tip-toeing quietly inside. There was no need to alert the grunts to his presence so they could chase him out before he even got to Megatron.

The 'legendary' warlord was sat in his makeshift throne in one of the largest caverns of the cave network. Starscream wondered if the old mech's joints were getting stiff or if his struts were rusting with how long he seemed to sit inactive in this damp, underground hovel.

Megatron didn't look surprised to see him creeping out of the shadows, his head turning slowly in Starscream's direction, optics sharp and narrow and cold.

"Megatron," Starscream threw in a flamboyant bow. It never hurt to flatter the old mech a little bit. "I come in peace."

There was a creak as Megatron began to rise, his large black hand falling to the hilt of his sword to draw it from it's sheath. Starscream quickly backed away with a frightened noise. "No wait! It's not a trick!""

"I tire of this, Starscream," Megatron rumbled, straightening and unsheathing the sword anyway.

Instead of drawing his own weapons, or running for his life, Starscream cringed back and clasped his hands together. "You don't understand! I'm here to help! The Autobots have the key to your defeat this very moment!"

Megatron did pause, his sword hovering threatening. "Oh? And how did this 'key to my defeat' fall into Autobot hands?"

Starscream swallowed. "Now, it wasn't _my_ fault-"

Megatron's cold calculating optics twitched, "What have you done, Starscream?"

"I haven't done anything!" Starscream stamped his pede and snarled. "_They_ stole something from me!"

"Your dignity?"

Starscream's lip curled. "My- one of my clones."

Megatron leant his weight on the hilt of his sword, the tip digging into the cave floor, "Are you sure it didn't leave on it's own accord? All the others did, after seeing what a useless waste of armour you are."

Starscream dearly wanted to call this a lost cause, activate his blasters, and shoot Megatron in the face. But his tiny clone needed him. He was small and useless but he deserved better than being experimented on by Autobots; poked and prodded and taken apart for his secrets.

"They took him," said firmly. "And unless you want the Autobots to have a new method of mass producing soldiers, you'll help me get him back."

Megatron stroked his chin, "And this clone of yours is unable of getting themselves out of trouble?"

Starscream bit down on his own glossa. "It's ...It's not exactly the most ...capable of clones."

Megatron arched a brow, an expression that had always infuriated Starscream. "Another coward?" He drawled.

"Yes," Starscream admitted, folding his arms defensively. "A ...a small, stupid coward."

"Small?" Megatron frowned.

Starscream used his hands to indicate the missing clone's size. "Small."

"Hardly seems worth recovering," Megatron scoffed heartlessly.

"He _is_ worth recovering!" Starscream yelled. "He's mine! I made him! He came from me!"

Megatron looked mildly disturbed. "You built it in a lab."

"Well," Starscream struggled on how best to word this part, "-not a _lab_ precisely. And not ...built. Not in a traditional sense, at least."

Megatron's optics were bright and wide. He was leaning over the sword, "Where did you procure the protoform, if not from a lab?"

Starscream rubbed the back of his neck, thinking back to the bizarre serious of events that had lead to the emergence of his surprise 'clone'. "...I'd rather not say."


	3. Chapter 3

For such a small individual, the newly named 'Star' seemed to house a lot of pent up frustration. And though he wasn't the most coordinated of bots, but if there was one thing he could do, it was dodge an incoming can of oil.

Optimus sat with the rescued Decepticon in his lap, one arm locked around Star's tiny frame to stop him from slipping down, the other holding the oil can he was trying to bring to Star's mouth steady as he was forced to dodge four failing limbs; kicks and slaps and wriggles and twists. Star's claws were huge, and to individuals small enough -such as Sari- they could easily be deadly. Optimus was more well protected than the average organic but he was still having to endure the 'pleasure' of them sinking past his armour seams and piercing his sensitive protoform.

After twenty minutes of trying in vain to wrestle Star, the Decepticon finally got the better of Optimus. With one well placed kick the can was sent soaring out of Optimus's hand to roll across the floor, spilling thick black oil as it went.

Optimus sighed, and despite having gained the victory in all this, Star burst into tears.

The others, Optimus noticed, had long since vacated the communal area, even the supposedly endeared Sari. "Babies are only cute when they're not screaming," she'd said, as she too fled. Optimus left the spilled oil where it was and hooked hands under Star's tiny arms to turn him around and bring him to his chest, patting his back soothingly.

To his relief, the wails began to subside. He heard Star sniff and hiccup against his shoulder, little hands, with claws clumsily scratching, began searching his armour for something.

"What is it?" He asked gently, turning his head to peer at Star's frowning face.

Star made an imploring noise, grabbing at Optimus's shoulder to try and pull himself higher. Wondering if he simply wanted a better view of the room, Optimus hoisted him up, so he was lying across his shoulder.

Rather than take in the view as Optimus had assumed he would, Star opened his tiny mouth and _immediately_ sunk his needle-sharp denta into Optimus's shoulder pauldron.

"Agh!" He yelped in surprise rather than pain. Star's mouth shot off his shoulder in an instant, and the sobbing started up again.

Optimus didn't know why _he_ was crying. _He'd_ been the one bitten.

Star's cries grew beyond both the superficial attention-seeking wails, and the basic 'I'm uncomfortable" whines too. He was hysterically screaming, tears of coolant streaming down his fat, round face. The little bot was distraught and the noise was unbearable. Optimus bounced and shushed and stroked desperately, pacing the length of the room with him, his spark aching at the sound.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," he tried desperately. "I'm sorry. You can chew on me if you want. It's fine."

But Star was too busy screaming his tiny head off to want to chew on anything. Optimus stared down at his flushed face, at a complete loss for what to do.

"Will you shut that racket off!" Ratchet's voice yelled from another room.

Optimus dropped to the sofa in defeat, cradling his hysterical cargo to his chest, wondering if maybe he'd exhaust himself crying and fall into recharge, hoping he would- _praying_ he would.

He was beginning to understand why Starscream might have abandoned whatever plans he'd had for this little one.

Stamping pedefalls approached and soon enough Ratchet was leaning over the back of the sofa, expression thunderous. "I thought I told you to shut that-"

The second Star lay optics on Ratchet he thrust his arms out, hands making grabby motions especially cultivated to urge larger mechs to pick him up. Ratchet veered back with an alarmed look, but Optimus was desperate. He rose, extending the hiccuping Decepticon.

"Ratchet, please," he implored, knowing the medic wouldn't be able to resist two sets of begging optics. "Just give him what he wants."

"Weren't you ever taught not to negotiate with Decepticons at the academy?" Ratchet growled.

"This is a very small Decepticon," Optimus would have latched onto any excuse. "And his tactics are very effective."

Star hiccuped loudly, whole tiny frame jumping with the force of it.

Ratchet made a disgusted noise, "Probably just wants to maim me..." He muttered, but took the extended bot anyway. Optimus watched Star wriggle in Ratchet's servos, wanting to be held closer. Eventually the medic relented, and Star immediately reached for the transformed doors resting on Ratchet's shoulders.

Eyeing the Decepticon suspiciously, Ratchet brought him closer.

Star grabbed the armour the second it was in reach and chomped down on it. Optimus winced as he saw Ratchet stiffen, the old bot's mouth pressing into a firm hard line.

"What did I tell you," he glared at Optimus. "Maiming me the second it could..."

"I'm sorry," Optimus came forward to detach the Decepticon from his medic. "Has he damaged you?"

He began to draw Star away, who then began to fret and whine again, tears gathering in his big round optics.

"No," Ratchet's expression softened. "Just a few dents..."

"He seems to like chewing on armour," Optimus sighed as the crying began to start again, Star's vents hitching as he geared up for some glass shuddering level-screaming, his claws swiping at the air in front of Ratchet, trying to get back to him.

Even Ratchet wasn't steeled enough against the display.

"Oh for- give him here then!" He snapped.

Optimus blinked, "You want-"

"If it means he's not screaming every second on the day, _yes_. He can chew on a bit of armour," Ratchet gruffly took Star back and brought him to rest against his chest. The cries disappeared, and Star very happily replaced the armour in his mouth. Optimus watched the tiny wing nubs on his back twitch.

"He still needs to fuel," Optimus pointed out.

Ratchet glanced at the spilled oil can. His frown reappeared in a flash. "_That,_ you're on your own with."

* * *

Megatron sat in his throne with his hands clasped together at his mouth, deep in thought. Starscream sat on the armrest of his throne, where Megatron had explicitly told him _not_ to sit. He had one large thruster resting on the seat of the throne, next to Megatron's lap, just to further annoy him.

"Fascinating," he purred, finally computing what Starscream had just told him enough to decide what he thought of it all. Assuming it was the truth. "A whole new life, come from nothing..."

Starscream scoffed, shifting so his pede nudged Megatron's thigh. "I wouldn't call it _nothing_, exactly. Took five hours to get it out of my-"

Megatron waved him off, not wanting to hear _that_ part of the tale again. It wasn't a scene he particularly wanted to visualise. "You checked it for a spark?"

Starscream looked at him like he was stupid. "It's a clone, it wouldn't have a-"

"Did you check?" Megatron pressed.

Starscream was silent, which implied he hadn't.

Megatron stood. "This is very promising indeed."

Starscream jumped down from the armrest, wings fanned wide to make his silhouette larger. "Wait just one minute, bucket-head. I know that look-"

"What look?" Megatron flashed him a charming smile, one that was once very effective at swaying Starscream's fickle moods in his favour. "You came to me with this information-"

"I came to you to get my clone back!" Starscream snarled, wings flicking violently. "Not so you could get ideas about mass producing a sprawling airforce out of my nether regions! If you saw the stupid little thing, you'd know how backwards that idea would be. It can't even speak. It can't even _sit up_ on it's own!"

Megatron's good mood dipped a little, "If it's as useless as you claim, why would the Autobots bother with it?"

"I don't _know_!" Starscream stamped his pede, and for all intents and purposes, he did appear quite upset about his loss. Odd for him to care about someone beyond his own selfish self.

"Make another," Megatron suggested, "and we'll see how promising this technology is. You're the key to all this after all. And the Autobots don't have _you_."

"Make another?" Starscream looked scandalised. "I can't just make another! I don't know how! And I don't want to! I want my clone. The first clone! I liked him!"

"You said he was stupid and useless," Megatron's optics narrowed suspiciously.

"So are you," Starscream's tone darkened. "Yet your followers are still as blindly loyal as ever."

Megatron decided to let that slide for now, in light of the new developments regarding Starscream's ...capabilities. Who knew how this had ability manifested, and though Starscream was immortal, punishing him for his sass wasn't worth the risk of damaging his now unique frame and hindering that ability.

He let his optics wander up and down Starscream's frame. Broad shoulders, a narrowing waist, and tiny hips. He tried to picture how small this 'clone' had to have been for it to have breached Starscream's frame via his pelvis, and where it might have been stored in his chassis before it had decided to emerge. And where did the parts to build it come from for a start? Was Starscream's frame cannibalising itself? He didn't appear to be malnourished or missing vital hardware...

It all seemed preposterous. So preposterous that surely not even an idiot like Starsceram would make it up.

"What are you staring at?!" Starscream snarled, all teeth and claws, right up in his face.

"Nothing," Megatron allowed himself another smirk, an idea manifesting in his dark clever mind. "I will recover your missing 'clone'," he agreed magnanimously, head held high. "On the condition that you willingly subject yourself to our examinations. You've been given a _gift_, Starscream, and it shouldn't go to waste."

Starscream pulled a face, "A 'gift," he muttered, rolling his optics, "You're such a creep."

* * *

Optimus's chrono changed to four am, and he woke with a start on the uncomfortably stiff sofa in the communal area to find his arms and lap empty. He jumped up, spark in his throat, using his spotlights to check the floor and under the sofa in the dark room. "Star?" He called softly. "_Star_?"

"Shh!" A harsh voice snapped, and Optimus swiveled his spotlights around to find Ratchet. The medic winced and quickly shielded his cargo from the optical piercing brightness- _Star_. "Turn those off! You'll wake the little brat!"

Optimus did, rushing forwards, relief palpable when he reached the medic and got a closer look at the recharging Decepticon in Ratchet's arms. "Thank Primus," he whispered, not just because the little one was safe, but because he was _asleep_. And silent.

"How long has he been recharging?"

"Only just settled down," Ratchet said gruffly, watching little limbs twitch as Star slept. "Every time I got him to start dozing one of those fragging airplanes would fly overhead and he'd get all excited again."

He sighed deeply. "Poor little idiot probably thinks Starscream's coming back for him."

"I'm sure it'll pass," Optimus said gently. "Long term memory doesn't develope in protoforms for a few months after onlining. It can't be much different for clones. And Starscream can't have stuck with him for long enough to make a long term impression."

Ratchet shrugged, "Coding goes deep. He knows where he belongs."

"Just because he was cloned from a Decepticon doesn't mean he will _be_ a Decepticon. Just look at Jetfire and Jetstorm. They're Autobots."

"And also fragging insane," Ratchet glared. "That's not as good an argument as you think it is. They were also created _by_ the Elite guard. This," he nodded to the snoozing bot in his arms, "is Starscream-designed and Starscream-made."

Optimus decided to let the argument lie for tonight, he opened his arms. "I'll take him-"

"Every time you hold him he screams," Ratchet pinned him with a firm judgmental glare. "I'll put him down. Where's he sleeping?"

Optimus scratched the back of his neck. "I hadn't really gotten that far."

Ratchet's optics rolled into the back to his helm. "Alright. Maybe we can find a crate somewhere-"

"He can recharge with me," Optimus implored, arms still open. "I don't want him to wake up alone in a box, Ratchet. He'll think he was abandoned again. He may not like me, but at least he'll recognise me."

Ratchet surveyed him for a moment, before shrugging. "Ah, what do I care," he handed the Decepticon over, gently despite his apparent apathy. "But if he wakes me up screaming again I'm blaming you."

"Okay Ratchet," Optimus ducked his head so the medic wouldn't see his own eye roll, securing the tiny bot against his front. Claws hooked into chest seams, but only stabbed lightly. Optimus tried to ignore the sting of them piercing his protoform and wondered if they might be able you get those clipped.

"And don't come crying to me if you wake up covered in teeth marks!" Ratchet called over his own thoroughly chewed shoulder.

Ratchet might have a point there. Perhaps they should invest in some of those things humans gave to their pets. Chew toys?

Sounded just like what they needed for this teething Con. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Puppy Proof", the label had read. Optimus wasn't entirely sure what a 'Puppy' was, even after consulting Prowl and learning that it meant 'young dog', but the packaging's reassurances that the plastic orange squeaker filled chew toy could withstand any amount of biting, tugging, scratching, and tearing, made it the best candidate for the job of distracting Star and his little mouth from everyone else's armour.

Optimus sat with his legs folded under him, smiling at Star laid on his front on the floor in the centre of the room, and squeaked the bone shaped toy.

Star stared blankly.

Optimus squeaked it again, twice, and gave it a little wriggle to make it look more interesting.

Star's face pressed into a condemning frown. Optimus couldn't help but feel like he was being _judged_. He squeaked the toy again, somewhat less enthusiastically.

Thankfully, at that moment he was joined by Sari and Bumblebee crashing through the main entrance, face's flushed and vents huffing from whatever mischief they had been up to out in the city.

"Hey! That's a _dog_ toy!" Sari exclaimed, immediately spying the toy in Optimus's extended hand. She ran between and around Bumblebee's legs, almost tripping him, to reach Optimus. "You can't give that to a baby."

Having long since abandoned the 'it's not a baby' arguments with Sari, Optimus didn't bother to correct her, letting his hand and the toy drop helplessly into his lap. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't want it."

He squeaked the toy again to show her. Star frowned at the irksome noise, turning his head in the other direction so his sensitive audials were somewhat saved from annoying squeak. Sari leant a shoulder against Optimus's pede and stroked her chin in thought.

"Pretty stuck up for a baby."

"Starscream's baby," Bumblebee reminded her, strategically ignoring Optimus's frown at the forbidden 'Baby' word. Sari didn't know better. He should. "Course it's gonna be stuck up."

"He's not stuck up," Optimus defended the Decepticon, feeling something in his chest soften at the sight of Star's over-sized claws curling against the floor and his tiny legs kicking back and forth. "He just doesn't know what to do with it."

Sari and Bumblebee watched him, with expressions exactly disturbed, as Optimus lifted the chew toy to his mouth and mimed biting it. Star's optics widened in interest then. He started to babble nonsense and slap his hands against the floor.

"See," Optimus smiled, feeling like he was finally getting the hang of this clone-care-taking duty he'd volunteered for. "He does like it."

"It's still a dog toy," Sari protested as she watched Optimus extend the plastic bone to Star. A clumsy little hand reached for it and big claws curled around it. Star snatched it greedily with a noise of victory and did use it for it's intended purpose, sticking it in his mouth.

He bit down, squeaked the squeaker, growled ferociously, and to everyone's horror, tore the 'puppy proof' plastic bone clean in half. Optimus stared at the plastic shrapnel and the freed squeaker, watching Star savagely demolish the toy beyond recognition.

"Don't let him choke!" Sari exclaimed when Star stuck the tiny squeaker in his mouth, jumping forwards.

Optimus caught her with a hand before she could get within reach of Star, who clearly didn't know his own strength and would very easily be able to do to Sari what he had done to the innocent chew toy. Bumblebee went for the Decepticon, wrapping one hand around his round middle and sticking his fingers into his mouth to retrieve the squeaker.

"Ow!" he exclaimed a second later, yanking his hand away and shaking out the dented thumb and forefinger. Star continued to chew on the squeaker, but was looking increasingly dissatisfied with it's dying squeaks.

"I told you he needs baby toys," Sari protested, leaning over Optimus's hand.

"I dunno, Sari," Bumblebee studied the damage done to his finger and extended Star's dangling frame away from him, keeping himself well clear of tiny Con teeth. "Stuffed toys might not cut it with a Decepticon. And babies don't even have teeth, do they?"

"Some do," Sari shrugged. "When they're teething."

Optimus began to stand - a process that took him longer than it used to, (was he getting old?) - and recollected Star from Bumblebee, shifting him to rest against his chest in a far more dignified position than the dangle Bumblebee had held him in. "Maybe he is teething."

"Do clones teethe?" Bumblebee asked.

"Why else chew on our armour?" Optimus wondered, watching Star reach for his shoulder as he did every time he was lifted, making grabby hands and whining noises of confusion.

"Maybe it's like a security blanket thing?" Sari suggested. "Babies pull on hair, or necklaces. Or anything they can get hold of."

A lightbulb lit in Optimus's head then. He glanced down at Star trying to grab his collar, and how taken the little Decepticon had been with the doors on Ratchet's shoulders. "Wings."

"Huh?" Bumblebee and Sari looked up.

"Wings," Optimus turned to them, and pointed to the little stumps on Star's back. "It's wings. He wants wings."

"Yeah," Bumblebee said slowly, eyeing the wing nubs. "Those _are_ kinda pathetic-"

"No, to chew on, to hold," Optimus clarified. "A security blanket," he pointed to Sari.

"But you guys don't have wings," Sari said, unsubtly disappointed.

"No," Optimus agreed, sighing at the squirming Decepticon in his arms. "But Starscream did."

* * *

"Pathetic," Starscream sneered at Megatron, arms folded and wings close to defend his frame against the elements as they stood outside atop the Decepticon's cave base and waited for their 'backup'. "You can't handle three nobodies, a geriatric, and a washed up rookie by yourself?"

"By all means, Starscream," Megatron lifted an arm and extended it towards the city. "If you think it's a one mech job, go ahead. Show me what a formidable opponent you are."

Starscream muttered something under his breath and kicked at the rock underpede. "Well I can't see how those fools Blitzwing and Lugnut are going to be of any help."

"My thoughts exactly," Megatron agreed, turning his helm at the sound of approaching thrusters. "Which is why they won't be accompanying us."

Starscream's head snapped up too, "Then who-?"

His optics grew wide and red when he spotted the incoming group. No doubt he recognised them, seeing as they were his coded-identicals. Three of the seeker clones; Thundercracker, Skywarp, and their new self-professed leader, Slipstream.

"What the Pit have you done?!" Starscream snarled.

Megatron allowed himself a smug smile, "Why, I've recruited the assistance of your clones to help retrieve the newest addition to their ranks."

"They betrayed me!" Starscream stamped closer, "They'll betray me again! They'll betray _you_! It's in their nature."

Megatron side-eyed Starscream. "Yes," he drawled, "I'm sure it is."

The three seekers transformed above them and swooped in to land. Slipstream simply and elegantly, Thundercracker with unnecessary flourish, and Skywarp ...behind a tree. Some distance away.

Megatron sighed. As far as the clones went, this was the best of them. He wondered if Starscream was at all embarrassed at the products of his coding, but then again, he seemed rather fond of his stunted missing clone too, so maybe he was delusional enough to be proud of them after all.

"Well, well, well," Slipstream sauntered over, slippery voice dripping with malice as she took in the sight of Starscream. "If it isn't our elated creator. I shouldn't be surprised you'd slink back to Megatron at the slightest inconvenience-"

Starscream straightened and fanned his wings out pompously, a clawed finger extended and ready. Before he could get out so much as a word, Thundercracker pushed his way to the front, chin up, chest puffed, and slapped the finger away. Starscream flinched in surprise.

"No need to thank us!" Thundercracker said loudly and nastily, "We're always happy to assist the _less fortunate."_

Starscream's optic started to twitch. He looked past the clones and glowered at Megatron. "_Why_ did you invite them?!"

"They've agreed to serve as a distraction whilst you rescue your precious little clone," Megatron explained, optics passing over the other seekers.

"Oh yes," Slipstream arched a brow, "We heard about your _tiny_ malformed project. So what happened, Starscream? This clone represent your sense of modesty?"

"That would explain why it's so small," Thundercracker added, prompting an eye roll from Slipstream.

Starscream's face began to glow purple, "For your information, he-!"

"The clone's shortcomings are of no reflection on it's potential value to the cause," Megatron interrupted firmly, before Starscream could spill the energon-beans on the unique manner in which the clone had been produced.

He, like Starscream, did not trust Slipstream's motives, and the last thing he needed was the lead seeker to steal his second-in-command turned immortal-rogue away for her own machinations. She had her own army to build after all, and her own motives.

She was Starscream's ambition turned up to the eleven.

"Exactly!" Starscream piped up again and jabbed a finger into Thundercracker's chest. "He may be one-tenth your size and yet, is _double_ the value "

Short tempered, Thundercracker's servos curled into fists at his sides.

"So how was it that the Autobots were able to 'steal' this clone away?" Slipstream looked Starscream up and down. "And how can you be sure it's still in the city? Won't the Elite Guard have swept it off to Cybertron by now? Involve it in a few experiments of their own?"

Starscream's face noticeably paled at her words, and Megatron began to wonder just how much he cared for this 'clone'. He had never know Starscream to be particularly inclined towards forming meaningful attachments with anyone. Let alone something as dependable as a malfunctioning clone.

"He's still here," Starscream insisted, "I can feel it."

Feel it? Megatron was going to be asking him what _that_ meant later on.

Slipstream snorted, but seemed to have decided she'd poked enough fun at Starscream today. She turned towards the trees. "Skywarp!" She bellowed, "Get out here."

The trees rustled, but no one emerged. Slipstream tilted her head back with a sigh and Thundercracker squared his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and began striding towards the trees.

"Some _backup_ you picked," Starscream leant closer to Megatron and hissed quietly.

"Tell me-" Megatron glared at the top of his head, "-do you possess a single iota of self awareness?"

The trees rustled violently as Skywarp began to squeal.

"Self awareness?" Starscream muttered, "What do I need that for?"

* * *

Of all the Autobot base, Star seemed to prefer Prowl's room the most.

Optimus stood at the base of the tree that had grown through the roof of Prowl's ceiling and fretted as he watched the ninja-bot scale it with Star in arm. Every so often Star would squirm in excitement, and Optimus would dive to stand beneath them, arm's outstretched, waiting to catch a plummeting Decepticon.

Prowl sighed from above, "For the last time, I have him."

"He's a fidgeter," Optimus reminded him, watching tiny legs kick.

"I will not drop him."

"Not intentionally."

Prowl muttered something under his breath and climbed faster. Optimus's spark jumped into his throat, "Careful-!"

With a rustle of leaves, Prowl disappeared with Star into the canopy. Optimus stood at the bottom, head tilted back, listening to the quiet sounds of the wildlife that took residence in Prowl's tree. Birds tweeted and insects chirped.

Optimus shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting.

A sharp, high pitched squeal rang out, and Optimus was halfway up the tree the next instant without even thinking about it, fuel pump pounding. "Star!? Star! Where-?"

He reached the canopy and stuck his head up through the top of the leaves. And found Prowl sat cross-legged, balanced on a branch, scowling, with Star sat securely in his lap, pointing up at the clouds and the birds and babbling away to himself.

Prowl arched a brow under his visor. "Can I _help_ you?"

Optimus felt sheepish, "I was ...just checking-"

"You're welcome to join us," Prowl said charitably, patting a branch next to him. "Take care of where you step. The branches are thinner up here."

Optimus nodded, and awkwardly, clumsily, dragged himself up onto one of the branches. Twigs and leaves rained down to the ground below, and Optimus could sense Prowl's optical roll more than he could see it as he huffed and winced and slipped around, ruining the tranquility of the moment.

Finally situated comfortably and securely, Optimus settled back and watched Star watch the world.

A bird of prey called as it soared overhead, and Star's little face opened up in awe. He lifted a hand and pointed. "An eagle," Prowl explained.

But Star made a protesting noise as the eagle began to fade into the distance, one that began to transmute into the sort of whines that usually proceeded a screaming episode. Prowl quickly pointed to a flock of sparrows in the distance instead, moving through the sky like a shifting, dark cloud. Star hiccuped at the sight of them, his mood not improving.

"Odd," Prowl admitted, stroking Star's wing-nubs to delay the inevitable meltdown. "I thought he would enjoy seeing the sky."

Optimus let his chin rest against his fist and sighed, "I guess ...he really _does_ miss Starscream?"

"Perhaps not," Prowl turned to face him, "Perhaps it is the flying he misses."

"But we can't fly," Optimus bemoaned. "No Autobot can."

Prowl tilted his head, "No. _Some_ Autobots can."

Optimus's optics brightened as he straightened. Of course. The jet twins. They'd be willing to help.

And in a way, Star was something of a cousin to them. Wasn't he?


	5. Chapter 5

"Involving the Elite Guard hardly seems wise," Prowl commented, surveying the clouds overhead suspiciously.

"The twins aren't The Elite Guard," Bumblebee snorted. "They're cool."

"Besides," Sari chirped in, cocking an animated eyebrow at Prowl. "For a guy saying he '_doesn't care about the baby Decepticon_' you gotta lot of opinions about how to look after him, _Prowl_."

"It is _not_ a -"

"Jetfire and Jetstorm are coming alone, as friends," Optimus interrupted them all. "And I've asked for their discretion."

"Is discretion a fancy way of saying 'sneak past Sentinel?" Bumblebee smirked.

Optimus stared him down for a moment. "...Yes," he eventually admitted.

"I dunno know about this guys," Bulkhead offered sheepishly, watching Star chew on his most durable digit as they sat waiting outside the front entrance of the base, waiting to hear the twin blasts of approaching thrusters. "Just cuz they can fly, doesn't mean they'll know what to do with 'im."

"I believe Optimus is hoping their mere presence is enough to help him," Prowl informed him, and Optimus didn't miss his condescending tone of voice.

"But they're still Autobots," Bulkhead frowned, confused, "They don't even wear their wings out in robot mode."

"They've been enhanced with Starscream's specs," Optimus reminded him, "and Star has been cloned from that same information. They're the best we've got."

"There's always the _real_ Starscream!" Ratchet's cranky disembodied voice called from inside the base, "Ever consider making the clawed, screaming menace _his_ problem again?"

So he could be abandoned on some rooftop again!? Optimus thought to himself privately, frowning deeply. Over his empty husk was he leaving Star's fate up to selfish, cruel Decepticons.

"Hey, look!" Sari interrupted his indignant musing by jumping to her feet and pointing up at the sky.

Electric blue and vibrant orange light breached through the clouds in the distance. They swept low over the nearby buildings, their elegant dance leaving streaks of contrasting light in their wake. As the thrum of their engines drew closer they caught Star's attention. He snapped his head up, making frantic chirping noises, not unlike an alarm call Optimus had seen organic cubs use to call their mothers on one of Prowl's nature documentaries.

By the time the twins were looping and flipping into their graceful transformation sequences above them, Star was wriggling through Bulkhead's large clumsy hands in excitement, kicking his tiny feet to free himself. He was wearing the biggest smile Optimus had seen so far on his young face.

"Woah," Bulkhead struggled to contain him, "guess you're right Optimus. He does recognise them."

"He does that when he see's a pigeon too," Ratchet appeared in an open window to bark at them, scowling at the sight of the landing twins.

Optimus ignored the medic, scooping Bulkhead's wriggling cargo up and striding towards their company.

"Bumblebot!" Jetfire exclaimed, quickly crowding Bumblebee with his brother, opening his arms enthusiastically. "We are here to be playing the Ninja Gladiator!"

"Uhh?" Bumblebee blinked at their enthusiast smiles.

"I'm afraid I lured you here under false pretences," Optimus stepped into their line of sight, Star carefully tucked close to his chest, hidden in his arms. "Sentinel doesn't know you're here, does he?"

Too curious heads shook in unison, "We are not to be playing the Ninja Gladiator?" Jetstorm clarified sadly.

"Later," Optimus sighed, rubbing his head as they exclaimed victorious yes's and highfived one another. "On the condition that you help us."

"Help? Yes, we can be doing that," Jetfire threw him a quick salute, he and his brother eagerly stepping up and standing to attention. "Decepticon trouble is no trouble to us!"

"_This_ Decepticon might be!" Ratchet appeared at the window again to shout, making the twins jump.

"Ah, it is the old grump bot!" Jetstorm waved enthusiastically, immune to Ratchet's scowl.

"Is he being too old to come outside?" Jetfire asked Optimus quietly.

Ratchet's face turned an interesting shade of red, "Why you little-!"

Optimus slammed the window shut and thrust Star's wriggling confused frame forward before there could be anymore interruptions. "_This_ is the problem."

The twins stared, gobsmacked at the very small seeker currently dangling from Optimus's hands. Star blinked one optic at a time, then smiled dopily.

Jetfire's mouth began to stretch into a grin. Star laughed at the sight of it, reaching for him.

"Look brother!" Jetfire elbowed his stunned brother roughly, "It is being a tiny Scream!"

* * *

Jetfire and Jetstorm -unsurprisingly no wiser as to what Star actually _was_ than they were- were enamoured with their newest 'friends' comedically tiny frame. They did not appear to be as bogged down with concerns about how and where and why and what, and were far more interested in the impractically of his useless wing nubs, and the cockpit that couldn't even open, and ...just about everything really.

"Brother!" Jetfire yelled again, a bit excited, and talking so loudly that Star blinked in shocked surprise. Jetfire took his toe-pedes in one hand each and began to move them back and forth. "Look at the small Scream's feet!"

"They are being round and ridiculous." Jetstorm nodded sagely, leaning close to study the round little disks on the flat heel that might, possibly, have been thrusters. "Can you even stand, little Scream?"

Star blinked at them, completely flummoxed.

Optimus cleared his vocaliser, "He cannot speak."

"A Scream with no scream," Jetstorm joked. "Ironic, no."

"I am thinking he cannot do much," Jetfire straightened and stroked his chin thoughtfully, studying Star's tiny frame.

"You're right," Optimus nodded, "he can't, and I believe it's making him ...frustrated."

"What can we be doing?"

Optimus rubbed the back of his helm, "I was wondering- hoping, really, that perhaps you would take him up with you." He pointed towards the sky. "For a flight."

The twins shared a look. "And we play the Ninja Gladiator afterwards?"

Optimus nodded, more than happy to pimp out Bumblebee's video game if it meant improving Star's quality of life, even if only temporarily. "As much Ninja Gladiator as you want," he promised.

* * *

"I don't like this plan," Starscream hissed, glowering down at the Autobot's dirty little warehouse from the roof of a nearby building, just far enough off to avoid detection.

Megatron's suffocating presence shifted behind him, closing in further. Starscream tucked his wings flush to his back to avoid brushing against the warlord's EM field, feeling far too fraught and vulnerable to risk letting himself get sucked back into the charismatic mech's orbit again.

No good ever came of it.

"You want your clone recovered, yes?" Megatron purred.

Starscream tried not to let his armour prickle at the sound of his smooth, silky voice. "I can do it myself."

"And then disappear off into the ether with it, no doubt." Starscream could practically _feel_ the force of Megatron's glare on the back of his helm. "No. You will remain here. Where I can see you. Slipstream and the other two are more than capable of retrieving another of your clones by themselves."

Starscream begged to differ. Slipstream and Thundercracker were egotistical fools and Skywarp was next to useless. He would have opened his mouth to ask Megatron why he couldn't have recruited any of the more competent clones, but quickly realising that there _weren't_ any competent clones, he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"If this doesn't work I'll never forgive you," He felt the need to throw out anyway, not knowing how else to convey the importance of this being a success without making himself look weak, or worse, sentimental.

He heard Megatron's armour shift behind him, then listened to the clunks of heavy pedes carrying the larger mech's frame around to stand alongside him. Megatron turned his head and looked down his handsome stupid nose at him, "I do not want nor require your forgiveness, in this or anything else."

"Of course not," Starscream tutted, stalking away in search of a Megatron-free section of the roof, "You're just after the _clone factory_ between my legs..."

"Would you feel any better if I were to join to them?" Megatron called after him.

Starscream paused. Slipstream and her two cronies looked enough like him that weren't likely to spook that scaredy-cat clone of his, but _Megatron_ swooping in with his stupid spinning helicopter blades and massive frame and scowling face, swinging his giant, ridiculous sword might give the clone a spark attack.

If it had a spark.

He shrugged. "Whatever gets you away from me," he sniffed.

Megatron made a noise of irritation. "Don't move," he demanded, and Starscream turned to sneer at him just as he stepped over the ledge of the roof, transformed midair, and rose back into the sky like the big ugly overgrown fan he was.

Starscream watched him charge off towards the Autobot base where Slipstream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp were waiting, and tried not to feel too grateful for his assistance.

Getting his clone back might just be worth dealing with Megatron.

* * *

Optimus was already having second thoughts about entrusting a tiny defenceless Decepticon with two excitable, albeit powerful rookie Autobots and they hadn't even taken off yet. Jetstorm and Jetfire spent ten minutes arguing over who would get to play against 'The 'Bumblebot' first in a game of Ninja Gladiator, then an additional twenty more minutes arguing over who got to carry Star for their flight.

Their initial decision to just pass him back and forth between them midair did not sit well with Optimus.

"Then we ask the little Scream who he likes best!" Jetfire declared, and bent at the waist to smile enthusiastically in Star's confused face.

Star cringed away with a frown, making a displeased noise and trying to slap him away. Jetfire only just avoided a swipe from four very sharp claws.

"Clearly it is not being you, brother," Jetstorm laughed, extending his own arms out towards Star.

Optimus instinctively held Star tighter, but after a moments hesitation, Star reached out for Jetstorm in turn. Optimus's spark sank when a happy smile crossed his face, his hands grabbing at the air.

Jetstorm took him under the arms and grinned, lifting him high above his head so he dangled. "Look brother! I am holding an entire Decepticon."

"Support his head!" Ratchet barked through the doorway, looking incensed.

Jetstorm quickly adjusted his grip, bringing Star down to his chest and looking uncharacteristically intimidated by Ratchet's reproach. Jetfire saluted Optimus, already igniting his thrusters.

"Fear not sir, we will take good care of the little Scream."

"No loops," Optimus warned.

The twins looked crestfallen, "What about-?"

"And no spinning," Prowl added before Optimus himself could. "Fly gently and avoid turbulence, as if you or your brother was injured."

The twins looked at each other and shared a laugh. "Injured!" Jetstorm smiled, igniting his own thrusters and joining his brother hoovering just off the ground. "We are too fast to be getting hit."

Optimus couldn't shake a horrible lingering sense of dread at his words, like they might be tempting fate a little. But he mustered a brave smile when Star turned in Jetstorm's arms and gave him a little wave. He waved back, stepping back to watch them ascend slowly. Star kicked his legs urgently, wanting to be higher, pointing to the sky, clearly excited.

"I guess you were right," Bulkhead murmured, standing next to Optimus and shielding his optics from the glare of the emerging sun as they watched the twins take Star up. "He really did just want a fly."

"I'm glad that's all it was," Optimus smiled, already deciding how best to rub this in Ratchet's face. Who said coding had to rule over nurture anyway.

Star babbled in excitement just as the clouds overheard began to clear, brightening the day further.

And Optimus's spark sunk right down into the pit of his chassis when four dark shadows began to emerge out of them, directly above the twins.

Three jet planes. And one helicopter.

Megatron.

Star squealed in Jetstorm's arms at the sight of them, and Megatron dove towards them with deadly speed.


	6. Chapter 6

Starscream's stolen clone was in the hands of the flying Autobots. Clever. But not clever enough.

The blue Autobot's visor brightened in shock when Megatron dove towards him, parting the thick clouds chopper blades first. He pulled back and flipped over at the last second to transform into robot-mode to have hands to seize the clone, but the Autobot yelped and _threw_ his cargo.

Megatron only glimpsed a soft little face and wide optics before the tiny clone was airborne and his arms were folding around nothing but air. He would have collided with the Autobot he'd thrown himself at had the smaller flier not cut his thrusters to plummet out of reach the moment the clone was clear, but Megatron's optics and attention were elsewhere. He searched the sky frantically for the stolen clone, his throat tight and chest pounding at the thought of Starscream's face when he learned he'd lost-

"Gotcha!" A young voice declared, and Megatron snapped his gaze to the left to find the orange Autobot hoovering in the air with the clone upside-down in his arms. The clone began to laugh, kicking stubby legs.

Megatron snarled and gave chase, but was quickly overtaken by the streak of teal that was Slipstream, with Thundercracker not far behind.

The Autobot took the clone into a dive, heading for the more densely occupied skyline of the city. Slipstream and Thundercracker matched his descent, but the Autobots yelling on the ground below began to fire at their attackers as they got into range. Slipstream dodged skilfully, but Thundercracker was clipped in the wing by a blaster and span out of formation. The remaining blaster shots rained across Megatron's plating, too weak to breech his reinforced armour.

There was another shriek of laughter as up ahead the Autobots threw the clone back and forth between them as they ducked and weaved around the tall buildings. Slipstream didn't seem to know which target to lock onto it, and nearly flew into the side of the building when her attention diverted.

Thundercracker, hindered by his damaged wing, had fallen back and was shooting down at the Autobots, diverting their fire away from the sky chase. Skywarp, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Megatron snarled, already bored of his game of cat and mouse, and charged forward, maxing his engines. The elegant Autobots and Slipstream wasting time flying around a billboard that Megatron simply blasted his way through, and he ended up between the two Autobots just as they tossed the clone.

Megatron punched the blue Autobot in the chest and opened his arms to catch the squealing ball of armour in his place, much like the quarterback catching the ball in a championship game.

In slow motion the clone seemed to come towards him, having tucked itself into an more aerodynamic ball with hands grasping at it's tiny feet. It's huge optics blinked, and it's mouth split into a smile when it saw the mech waiting to catch it.

When sudden flash of orange light slammed into Megatron's gut and sent burning pain through his circuits. He seized up and flinched into the blaster wound sizzling in his abdomen, and right before his very optics, the clone fell through his hands and began to plummet towards the ground.

"No!" Megatron threw himself into a dive, ignoring the pain. The clone's frame was already just a dot of maroon. It would hit the roof of the building below before Megatron could catch it.

He could see it already, the tiny frame hitting the concrete-

Starscream never speaking to him again-

The clone let out a cry of fright, and the sharp high-pitched noise plunged a knife of ice into Megatron's spark, like someone written into his base coding was imploring him to _do_ something, anything; to defy the laws of physics and catch -

There was a roar of thrusters and between the buildings below emerged Starscream himself. With a grace that spoke of millennia in the air the seeker transformed mid air, matched velocity with the clone, and gently took it into his arms, prompting a bubbly laugh from it's tiny vocaliser.

Megatron's relief was so overwhelming he almost forgot to pull up and avoid his own collision with the roof. Unable to properly slow his descent he landed heavily across the roof, stumbling and dropping to one knee in a skid, turning over quickly to be sure Starscream still had the clone above.

Hoovering over him, Starscream didn't even look at him, his head bowed towards the clone clutching at his chest plating as he murmured softly to it.

"Does it still function?" Megatron called, straightening and brushing the grit from his knee plating, one optic on the sky for the return of those blasted Autobots.

Starscream nodded, his thrusters easing off as he began to descend. Megatron approached, curious. He hadn't gotten a good look at the clone yet, but now that it was still and no longer airborne, he could study it's soft features better.

It was indeed an odd little thing. As small as Starscream had insinuated and rather out of proportion. Nothing about it struck Megatron as distinctly 'Decepticon', but it had clearly come from his once second. It's thick, silver claws were buried in Starscream's clavicle seam and it's little aft was sat securely on Starscream's strong arm. It turned it's head to look at Megatron, one pudgy cheek squashed to the armour of it's creator.

Megatron's blackened spark warmed.

He leaned closer, but Starscream turned harshly to hide his cargo with a long wing.

"Back off," he snarled, "You dropped him."

Megatron laid a defensive hand over the wound still sizzling in his abdomen. "I was shot."

"And you _dropped_ him," Starscream said fiercely, tucking his clone closer. "Who is to say you won't again?"

Megatron begrudgingly stepped back, casting an optic about the sky again. He could hear blaster shots and yells below, but with any luck Thundercracker and Slipstream were still holding off the Autobot fliers, and Skywarp was ...still hiding somehere likely.

"We're outnumbered. We should retreat."

Starscream scoffed, but it was a noise muffled against the top of the clone's head. The clone tried to peak out over the top of Starscream's wing to look at Megatron, making an inquisitive noise, but Starscream adjusted him again with a put out noise.

"We should," he agreed. "Primus knows you can't even outmanoeuvre an _Autobot_ in the sky now."

Starscream ignited his thrusters and began to rise into the sky. Megatron followed quickly, transforming into helicopter mode, cannon armed and searching the ground for any potential ambushers. Next to him Starscream performed a very complicated transformation sequence that allowed him to transform _around_ the clone without dropping it, encasing it safely within his cockpit.

Megatron couldn't ignore the swell of amusement he got from watching the little clone press his face to the glass and lick it.

"Don't say it," Starscream grumbled as they rose into the clouds, side-by-side and headed for safety.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Megatron rumbled back, watching tiny hands leave grubby finger-marks all over the interior of Starscream's cockpit. "But I suppose you'll want to use my wash-racks when we return."

Starscream's jet gave a wriggle that looked like repressed excitement. "...That would be ...appreciated."

Megatron would have smirked had he been in robot-mode.

He would win Starscream back yet. Him _and_ his clone.

* * *

When Optimus watched Star fall through Megatron's large black hands, his spark dropped into the bottom of his tanks. He ran, forgetting his crew and the Decepticon seeker they were struggling to hold off, and headed for the tower Star was on the verge of hitting.

Megatron's large grey form was diving after the tiny dot, but he would never make it in time, and Optimus had no way of reaching them himself.

He fired his grapple gun at the building and hauled himself to the top as fast as he could, but by the time he arrived the air was filled with the drum of helicopter blades and blast of ignited thrusters. He pulled himself over the ledge just in time to see the Decepticons disappear above the clouds, leaving no sign of Star behind.

A second throom of thrusters signalled the remaining Decepticon seeker's retreat, and Optimus deflated as he watched two jets turn into three as a purple seeker appeared out from behind a nearby skyscraper and rushed to join them. They disappeared beyond the city limits, but Optimus couldn't tell to were.

He swallowed thickly, wondering how things could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

He began his slow descent from the tower, dejected and tired and spark-sick.

What could Megatron possibly want with Starscream's clone? And such a small defenceless one at that? Star couldn't fight. He didn't have any weapons. He couldn't even _stand_ on his own unassisted. _And_ he struggled to sleep, and he always needed something to chew on, and he had to be fuelled every few hours, and- and-

Optimus had seen how Decepticons treated one another. He had seen how Megatron and Starscream interacted. He had no reason to believe Megatron would be any kinder to a clone of Starscream's than he was to the original.

And he couldn't imagine a notorious warlord such as Megatron having any patience for a being he couldn't order around- a being with a penchant for scratching and biting and making senseless noise no less.

Optimus reached the bottom of the building and swiftly jogged back to the base. He arrived just as Bulkhead was picking a cursing Ratchet off the floor. Bumblebee was cradling a dislocated arm and Prowl was splattered with oil, but they seemed otherwise unharmed. Optimus breathed a sigh of relief.

"Where's the baby?" Bumblebee yelped, optics searching Optimus's frame.

"Clone," Prowl corrected, scowling under the layer of oil he was covered in.

Optimus steeled himself. "He-"

He was interrupted by the blast of twin thrusters and Jetfire's loud voice, yelling, "The tiny Scream has been taken!"

Optimus sighed.

"What?" Bulkhead looked around, like maybe Star was just hiding from them.

"The big Scream was too fast," Jetstorm said mournfully, sounding more dejected than Optimus had ever heard either one of them sound. Then again, it was probably the first time they had been outpaced in the sky. "Very fast."

Optimus swallowed and nodded. "I saw."

"At least you got in a good shot, brother," Jetstorm patted his brother's shoulder.

"A good shot, but not a wise one," Optimus reprimanded, unable to find the same level of appreciation after having watched Megatron _drop_ Star. "You could have hit Star."

The twins looked taken aback by his harsh reproach. Ratchet stepped forward, "C'mon, they're only kids, they tried-"

"That was a disaster," Optimus ignored Ratchet's kinder words. "Throwing him between yourselves like he was a football. You could have _killed_ him. Then what?"

The twins bowed their heads, "We be understanding, sir."

Optimus leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was wasting time with this. "We need a plan to get him back."

"Back?" Sari's young voice cried. She came running up to his pede, cheeks flushed from the battle. "Didn't you hear them?" He gestured to the twins. "Big Scream? _Starscream_ took him _back_. And Star is Starscream's baby-"

Optimus was losing patience, "We don't have babies, and Starscream abandoned him, Sari."

"Maybe he didn't?" Sari protested, "Maybe -maybe this is just a big misunderstanding?"

"The little Scream was much too happy to see Megatron," Jetfire piped up unhelpfully.

"He was happy with _us_," Optimus glared at the jet. Jetfire wisely ducked his head.

"But he's not ours-!"

"He was mine," Optimus snapped, louder than he'd intended. Sari snapped her mouth shut and blinked up at him in surprise.

Optimus shook his head to clear it and stepped over her. "I need to be alone."

"Optimus, wait-"

"Let him go kid," he heard Ratchet stop her. "The bot said he needs a minute. It's not easy letting go."

_Letting go_, Optimus glared once he was inside the building. He wasn't letting go. Not until he was sure Star was safe. Sure that he was going to be loved and cared for, and not turned into another Decepticon tool.

This wasn't over. 


	7. Chapter 7

If a complete disregard for his person was how a clone expressed affection, Starscream's stunted one was certainly happy to see him.

He grimaced and cursed as he felt the little monster roll about inside his cockpit, yanking on things and kneeing him in awkward places and putting important equipment into his drooling mouth. Starscream flew all the faster to get himself to a safe enough place where he could transform and eject the tiny sadist from his hardware.

Within minutes he landed outside the cave entrance to the Decepticon base. With a hasty skid he popped open his cockpit before he'd come to a full stop, and with the worst timing imaginable, his clone chose that exact second to yank on the red ribbon that activated the ejector seat.

It went off with a bang that would have stopped Starscream's spark had he still had one, and he shrieked in horror when the seat ignited and shot into the air, taking his clone with it in a plume of white smoke.

Air gusted around him as Megatron landed with a thunk behind him, transforming and joining him in searching the sky, battle protocols activated like he expected another Autobot attack. "What the-!?"

Before Starscream could explain, a high pitched whistle drew their attention to the sky some hundreds of feet above them, where the clone was coming back down again, squealing. Starscream rushed to get into position to catch him, but a befuddled Megatron simply held out one long arm and, _plonk_, the clone fell into his outstretched palm.

The clone looked around in surprise, blinking with wide optics, before setting his sights on his saviour, and starting to laugh. Megatron -to Starscream's immense irritation- smiled back at him fondly. "A mischief maker, I see."

Starscream didn't find any of it quite so funny.

"Grounded!" He thrust a condemning claw at the clueless clone. "And you owe me a pilot's seat!"

With perfect timing he heard his pilot's seat crash into the river running beneath the cave somewhere behind him. The current would carry it off and he'd never see it again. His scowl deepened, and this time focused on Megatron.

"Give him to me," he demanded, "You're not allowed to hold him, remember."

Megatron, for reasons unknown to any machine possessing logical processing, seemed disinclined to hand the clone back. He turned his frame, shielding the clone with one massive shoulder from Starscream's ire. "Am I not owed penance for catching him?"

"_I_ would have caught him if you hadn't," Starscream insisted. Because he would have. He was perfectly capable of keeping his own clone alive. Granted no further thieving Autobots got in his way.

Megatron looked like he might have protested the fact, and Starscream would really rather not think about what might have happened to the clone had he not landed in Megatron's ridiculously oversized hands. He huffed and extended his arms out, and after a pause, Megatron sighed wearily and finally passed the squirming bundle of defected clone over.

Starscream tucked him close to his chest and sneered at Megatron. "The wash racks?" He reminded him.

Megatron gestured to the cave entrance. "Indulge yourself."

Starscream planned to. He turned on his heel and strode into the cave, slapping away the tiny fingers that kept trying to stick in between his throat cables and tug them loose.

"You're a disgrace to Starscreams everywhere," Starscream bent his head and murmured reproachfully in his clone's tiny audial. "Megatron is the _last_ mech you want to be making friends with."

Ignoring him in typical Starscream-like defiance, the clone stuck an arm in the air and waved it enthusiastically at Megatron over Starscream's very shoulder. Starscream whipped around and caught the warlord with his hand raised. Megatron quickly shifted his position to make it look like he was merely inspecting his cannon instead, but Starscream _knew_.

What was it about this useless clone and everyone trying to get a piece of him?!

* * *

Starscream had taken the clone into the wash-racks with him, which greatly hindered any progress with both of Megatron's two most pressing desires.

The two of them together in there meant inspecting the clone without Starscream breathing down the back of Megatron's neck would have to wait. It also meant that ..._ingratiating_ himself to Starscream without the threat of distractions would also have to be delayed. The clone was certainly a handful, and Starscream required more than a fair share of velvet words and pretty promises to warm up, especially when it came to Megatron.

Alas, he would have to wait.

And so he did. For some time.

Blitzwing found him loitering outside the makeshift wash-racks Starscream was using and raised an Icy, judgmental brow. "I take it ze clone haz been retrieved?"

"He has. I'll bring him to you shortly, but all in good time," Megatron murmured, listening to the running solvent and the soft sound of speaking bouncing back against the cave walls within the wash-racks. He heard the clone shriek excitedly, and Starscream grumpily hushing him, and leant a fraction closer, trying to decipher what his once-second was telling the defenceless thing. "We'll solve this mystery yet."

Blitzwing might have rolled his optics at him, but Megatron wasn't paying close enough attention to know for sure. He was listening to Starscream curse, and distinctly heard a complaint of, "-_ay where you are, for Star's sake, and stop **licking** the floor. You realise **Lugnut** uses these facilities!"_

He sounded rather stressed, and feigning concern was as good a reason as any to intrude upon the overworked seeker.

Megatron entered the dark tunnel leading to the 'wash-racks': a cavern that had been set up with plumping to imitate something close to the cleaning facilities they would have had on their now crashed warship. Inside, Starscream was stood under the weak stream of watery solvent trickling out of the shower head, hastily scrubbing himself with a well worn wash cloth as he struggled to keep an optic on the clone between his feet.

A clone who was not at all inclined to sit still and wait before making his explorations of this new and strange place.

He kept rising onto his hands and knees to crawl away from his creator and reach the thoroughly exciting drain set in the middle of the cavern's floor. He wouldn't get much more than a shuffle away before Starscream would drag him back with a foot hooked under his tummy, nudging him back into place.

He clone protested loudly when he was accidentally rolled onto his back and the solvent began to rain down onto his face. He made a distraught hiccuping noise, and Starscream snarled in frustration and bent to pick him up.

"You won't let me do anything, will you!!" He snapped, wiping the clone's little face with the cloth to get the solvent out of his squinting optics. Stubby, clawed hands fought him fussily.

"Perhaps another pair of servos?" Megatron made his presence known and stepped forward.

Starscream's first instinct seemed to be to fling the wash cloth at him. Megatron caught the sodden projectile in his hand, letting it hit his palm with a wet slap. The clone started to laugh.

Starscream wasn't quite so amused. He looked Megatron up and down angrily.

"You know," he began, voice oily and suspicious. "For the first time, I can't quite tell what your nefarious intentions are." He lowered his wings and tucked the clone closer, suspicion giving rise to caution. "You're after something," he purred dangerously, "but is it me? Or the clone?"

"Why not both," Megatron suggested, because perhaps honesty was the safest option here. Starscream would assume he was playing games anyway. And that was fine. He didn't need Starscream to trust him, he just needed him to stay.

Starscream's left wing twitched and rose to cover the clone resting against his shoulder. He wasn't in the mood for games today it seemed.

Megatron lifted his hands, one holding the wash cloth, the other open and passive. "I can help you wash, or I can carry your burden."

The clone squealed happily. Starscream's glare darkened. "_Traitor_," he muttered under his breath to the little clone. And, "You can wash me," he announced to Megatron, nose in the air. "But be careful with the wings."

Megatron nodded curtly and stepped forward. He lifted the cloth over Starscream's head, leaning in as he did so, dampening it under the trickle of solvent and rinsing it out before bringing it back down to Starscream's back. Starscream kept an optic on him suspiciously when he began to rub it across his armour.

The clone was still clinging to his shoulder, his little face next to Starscream's. It was a shock how alike, but different, they were. One soft and enthusiastic, the other sharp and intense and unpleasantly twisted, but handsome all the same. Starscream's glare hardened when their optics met. The clone smiled at Megatron cheekily when he averted his gaze.

As much as an attention-seeker as Starscream himself was, but lacking the any of the same self control, the clone began to blow raspberries at Megatron. Knowing that Starscream was watching all this, Megatron had to fight to keep his expression stoic.

A tiny hand reached for him anyway. Starscream brushed it down. "Stop it."

The clone whined and did it again. Megatron's attention shifted away from Starscream's wing to the little face just above it-

"Alright fine!" Starscream snapped and whirled around, and before Megatron knew it, the wash cloth was ripped from his grasp and wet clone shoved into his hands in it's place. "Don't you dare drop him."

Megatron adjusted his hold so the clone was tucked against his chest with one arm. Starscream span back around and flicked water everywhere. The clone laughed joyously when he and Megatron were speckled with it. Megatron moved away from the spray and carefully began to wipe the droplets of solvent off the tiny frame.

And with Starscream's attention averted, Megatron finally saw an opportunity to inspect the clone closer.

Megatron peered into rounded crimson optics and studied the pristine glass, the intricate lens beneath, the way the light adjusted and the lens shrank and widened. Despite the clone's small size his optics at least, appeared to function as normal. As did the clone's reaction times. Megatron prodded a derma-soft cheek, mildly awed by the flawlessly young metal. Nary a scuff or scratch to be seen. Even after his stay with the Autobots. _Even_ after the incident with the ejector seat.

Next he tipped the clone at an angle and lifted him when the little seeker yawned wide, pearing into his mouth. Glossa, but no denta. Intakes normal. Vents normal. He flipped him up the other way and turned him over. Thrusters ...were ill-formed and unbalanced. Wings ...were practically nonexistent. No weapons. No defensive capabilities.

How peculiar.

There was only one thing left to check. The chamber that lay beneath the little clone's chassis. Megatron rubbed his fingers against the armour and detected some warmth emanating from beneath. There was certainly _something_ there. Was it a spark? Had Starscream discovered a method of reproduction that didn't require the direct assistance of the All-spark?

"What are you doing?!"

Megatron looked up. Starscream was staring at him, gaze harsh and calculating. Megatron's light touches had tickled the clone, and the exuberant laughter it had produced had drawn the overprotective creator's attention. Megatron dropped his hand away from the clone. "Nothing."

"Were you _tickling_ him?!" Starscream demanded, disgusted.

Megatron growled at the insinuation. He was _Megatron_, gladiator of Kaon and intergalactic warlord. He did not _tickle_.

"I was inspecting him for damage."

"_I_ can do that, _thank_ you," Starscream sniffed sarcastically. He twisted the taps to turn off the solvent and moved out from under the shower head.

He was still dripping wet, but there were no drying facilities in the cave. The indignity of having to air dry would not put Starscream in any better a mood, so Megatron decided he would need to get on with what they were here for, before Starscream grew ...difficult.

"Blitzwing will do a better job that either of us," he began carefully.

Not carefully enough it seemed. Starscream's optics flared. He shot forward to take the clone, but Megatron moved back, shielding him with his arms.

"You can't let that maniac touch him!" Starscream argued. "He's delicate!"

"Blitzwing isn't planning on firing him into the air via ejector seat," Megatron pointed out harshly.

Starscream's glare grew venomous. "I will hold you _personally_ responsible for anything your mechs do, you hear me?!" he growled. "And if you can't keep your soldiers in line, I'll shoot _you_."

Megatron nodded understandingly, stroking an absent hand over the clone's helm. The clone reached up and tried to grab at his fingers, cooing happily. A look crossed Starscream's face, but it was gone long before Megatron could decipher it.

"Agreed," Megatron said, and began to move towards the door. Starscream followed closely, crowding him like an overprotective parent, almost tripping Megatron up. Megatron shot him a glare, but it didn't seem to have the same affect as it once had. Starscream's concern for the clone eclipsed any healthy sense of self-preservation.

"I'll carry him," Starscream scratched at his forearm.

"I can manage," Megatron shooed him away.

Starscream bit his lip, but remained close, his armour brushing Megatron's when they walked. Ordinarily Megatron would have shoved the pest away, but something about his presence was surprisingly soothing, and the clone in his hands had seemed to settle too, his optics flicking between the two of them contently.

"What are you going to do with him?" Starscream asked quietly as they moved through the cave. "Fix him?"

Megatron stroked a finger down the clone's back, watching wing nubs move back and forth. "See if he even _needs_ fixing," He corrected. "The All-spark has mystified our people for millennia, Starscream. This could be but the tip of the asteroid."

Starscream's face looked a little paler when he glanced at the seeker again. "You mean, there could be more of him?"

"You could make more," Megatron eyed him, "But we'll have to see if it's worth it, before considering how."

Starscream's lips pressed into a pout, "Well, you'l have to come up with an excellent reason for me to even bother first."

Megatron smirked, watching the seeker at his side practically lean into him -his most hated rival- just to be closer to his own little 'clone'. "Oh, I think I already have a reason."


	8. Chapter 8

The clone snuggled close to Megatron as if he had come from _his_ coding, not Starscream's. Starscream looked on enviously, his tank twisting itself into jealous knots that it wasn't his armour the clone was drooling all over. His misshapen little body looked impossibly small and lost in Megatron's oversized arms, only a stubby wing poking out amongst bulging metal biceps. Starscream stretched onto the tips of his pedes as he walked to see better, but the clone had completely plastered himself to Megatron's chest.

Traitor. Why did all his clone's have to be such traitors!? They hadn't gotten that from him, surely.

They arrived at a section of the cave network that Blitzwing had set up as a mockery of a repair bay. It was part medical centre, part laboratory, and as they entered Starscream could still spy lingering evidence from the human prisoner, Professor Sumdac's extended stay.

Blitzwing was awaiting them with Icy's cool, stoic face. Starscream's usual distrust for him ticked over into something more vitriol, though he couldn't tell why. His armour flared defensively and he quickened his pace to walk out in front of Megatron, placing himself between the other mech and the defenceless clone in Megatron's arms.

Blitzwing's face swizzled and Random's terrifying grin appeared to emit a manic, echoing laugh, "We've gone from no Screamers to two Screamers!"

Behind Starscream, in Megatron's arms, the clone popped his head up. He took one look at Random and promptly burst into tears. Megatron jumped in alarm.

"Starscream, your clone is malfunctioning," he complained, holding the sobbing handful of armour away from himself, much to the clone's increasing distress. The clone held his hands out and grasped at the air between him and Megatron, the derma around his optics crinkling as coolant began to dribble down his face. He was frightened.

Starscream made a furious noise at the ineptitude surrounding him and took his mini-me back, glaring daggers at Megatron. "Can you blame him?!" He hissed, turning his glare on Random next.

Random, having never possessed a sense of tact, came forward and cooed at the clone, wriggling his fingers at him playfully but looming with that large jack o'lantern grin of his. The clone abruptly stopped crying and went unnerving stiff in Starscream's arms, optics wide enough to take up his whole face.

Starscream twisted away with an impatient noise, shielding his clone from the freak. "I'm not letting this lunatic emotionally scar my clone!" He told Megatron.

"As though your care-taking skills haven't done that already," Megatron muttered, but did, to his credit, cast a glare at Random. "Switch back to Icy or there will be consequences."

Random laughed again and threw his head back, which began to spin. Icy reappeared and straightened up, "Apologies, Lord Megatron," he gestured for Starscream to bring the clone to him. "Ve vill begin the examination."

The clone's sobs had softened to hiccups by now, and the death grip his claws had had in Starscream's armour seams had relaxed enough for him to be able to put the little lump down on a smooth, thick slab of stone they were using as an examination berth. The clone caught Starscream's finger before he could withdraw completely, and unable to summon the resolve to break his grip, Starscream lingered by the slab.

"Don't embarrass me," he murmured softly, knowing the tone of his voice was far more important to the clone than what he was actually saying to him. "Be a good seeker and I'll let you chew on my wing afterwards."

The clone yanked on his finger cluelessly.

To make things more uncomfortable, Starscream could feel Megatron's presence behind him, the large mech overbearingly close and far, far too curious for Starscream's liking. The clone's optics wandered away from Starscream's frowning face and his little pout turned up into a smile when he set sights on Megatron instead. He babbled excitedly, releasing Starscream to point to the menacing helicopter looming behind him.

Starscream flashed his once leader a glare over his shoulder, a warning for him to back off.

Megatron paid him no mind. Just who did he think he was, sucking up all the attention? The clone was no better. Starstruck little fool.

"Now ve shall see if zere is indeed a spark," Blitzwing announced, coming back to the slab with a scanner in hand. Being approximately twenty million years old, Blitzwing had to slap the side of it's screen and give it a good shake to get it working. When it blinked online he lowered it to the clone, who cooed in interested and tried to grab it as it passed over him.

"Stop that," Starscream warned him, brushing his tiny hands down.

The scanner beeped and Blitzwing consulted the results. "Vere is an energy signature."

"A spark?" Megatron pressed as he stepped closer, now standing only an inch or so from Starscream's back and peering at the clone over his shoulder. Starscream folded his wings close and glared back at him, resisting the urge to stamp on the pede so temptingly close to his own.

"Maybe," Blitzwing didn't commit to anything and set the scanner aside. "Starscream, if you please?"

Starscream glared between them. They wanted him to open up his clone's spark chamber. He had no idea what they'd find in there, if anything at all. It was harrowing enough to have to walk around knowing his was empty, ignoring the strut deep chill that came with being a hollow shell. This clone was naive and stupid and would have no understanding of what it meant to be walking around without a soul.

Despite himself, despite what it might mean for both his and the (not?)clones's future, he hoped there was one.

He lightly scratched the clone's round tummy to make him laugh before slipping a sharp claw tip into the seam that separated his minuscule chest plates. He found the manual latch and flicked it, and the armour over the clone's chest folded away.

Cool, blue-tinged light poured out, and Megatron's chest clunked against Starscream's back when the larger mech stepped forward to get a better look. Starscream was too enraptured with what he was looking at to shove him away. His optics adjusted to the outpouring of light and he found himself staring at not a piece of the All-Spark -the material had kept him alive and had brought life to his other clones- but a spark. A _real_, functioning, perfectly formed, uncorrupted spark.

"By the All-Spark..." He heard Megatron breathe.

The clone -the _not_ clone, the unique, sparked individual he had somehow created- laughed at their wide optic'd, stunned faces.

An arm came around Starscream's middle as they stared, warm and tight. A palm pressed flat to the armour over his chassis and stroked it, possessive and reverent. Starscream's processor sluggishly registered it as Megatron, staking his claim on what was clearly now a valuable asset.

"He needs a designation," Megatron's purr was a smooth rumble in Starscream's audial.

Starscream blinked, stunned. The other clones had named themselves... But this clearly wasn't a clone, and did not possess the processor capacity to think one up by himself. If they left it up to him he'd likely name himself a raspberry noise.

"And you," Megatron continued, turning his face so his nose was pressed against the side of Starscream's helm and his lips were brushing his audial with every warm, honeyed word, "Need an examination of your own."

He punctuated it with two firm pats to Starscream's midriff. 

Starscream grabbed the hand Megatron was fondling his chassis with and pulled one of the fingers back, trying to snap the joint. Megatron reluctantly began to release him, but didn't show any signs of being hurt by his manhandling.

"Not on your life," he growled, escaping Megatron and scooping up his- his ...not-clone and bringing his warm, alive little body to his chest.

Before he could sweep from the room and flee the base so he could hide away and come to grips with the ramifications of this in private, Megatron caught a wing edge and tugged him back. He stumbled and yelped, grip tightening on his cargo for fear of falling and dropping him, but he fell securely against Megatron's large, powerful chest.

"We had a deal," Megatron reminded him, smirk toothy and pearly white.

Starscream scowled but let the smug bastard pluck his little seeker from his arms. His offspring went into Megatron's arms willingly, as happy with a strange _thug_ as he was with his own creator. Starscream begrudgingly sat on the very edge of the slab, poised to make a quick escape. If necessary.

Blitzwing slapped the top of the slab. "Lie down, Starscream, or I'll fetch ze restraints."

Starscream looked to Megatron, surely he wouldn't allow-

Megatron nodded easily to give his approval.

"You slag puddle," Starscream griped.

"Ve vill have to check ze little seeker's coding," Blitzwing was saying as he watched Starscream fuss and mutter as he lay back. "And zee vhat triggered ze All-Spark fragment-" here he poked Starscream's forehead, where the shard as imbedded, "into creating new-life."

"Starscream said it came out of him," Megatron voiced, hefting the little seeker higher up his chest to get tiny needle-like claws out of delicate armour seams. "From his-"

"Megatron!" Starscream hissed before he could say more.

"Then ve shall have to zee vhere he came from," Blitzwing continued, and much to Starscream's stress, snapped into Hothead and brandished a scalpel, "Open vide, Screamer!"

"Megatron!" Starscream shrieked.

* * *

Several hours later Starscream was still intact, and his tiny seeker was asleep in Megatron's arms. Having convinced Hothead not to slice him open and fiddle with his internals, several scans had been taken instead to try and discern what might have changed inside Starscream to have lead to the new seeker's creation. Icy was back in control and comparing Starscream's new scans to old ones they had had on file from before Starscream had been ejected from their ranks and left for dead.

There was, much to Starscream's discomfort, a remarkable difference in his new schematics, and a lot of internal 'upgrades' he didn't recall giving his consent to, or getting in the first place.

Megatron was studying the scans too, absently patting the snoozing seeker's back as he strode between them all plastered on the cave wall. He stopped in front of one and pointed to Starscream's lower chassis on the scan, his optics sharp and narrowed. "You have an extra tank."

Starscream leaned in to take a look. "It's not a fuel tank."

Blitzwing slipped a new scan in front of both of their faces, "It iz a forge."

"A forge?!" Starscream hissed hysterically, but managed to keep his voice just low enough not to wake the recharging seeker in Megatron's arms.

Megatron was still staring at the scans, his dark face paling somewhat, "it appears to be connected to your valve..."

Starscream snapped his optics back to it. Then slapped Megatron arm. "I _told_ you he came out of there!"

"This iz all very irregular," Blizwing said as he was flicking through a datafile, which was just what anyone would want to hear when they came to a semi-qualified field medic for answers. "Zhe All-Spark fragment has transformed your frame to make you capable of parthenogenesis."

Megatron blinked slowly, which clearly meant he didn't know what parthenogenesis meant, or why Blitzwing might be wrong. Starscream glared at the forge that was connected to his valve array on the scan. _That_ had to be for a reason, and it couldn't just be for the offspring to come out of him.

"You should test the coding," he murmured, coming to a sudden _awful_ realisation. Things were starting to add up. His offspring's easy familiarity with Megatron the most obvious smack in the face of all. "Test it," he repeated.

"Ve vill," Blitzwing began.

"And compare it to Megatron's."

Blitzwing stared at him in silence. Megatron's optics blew wide. "I _beg_ your-"

"Scholars have argued for years that the All-Spark had a certain ..sentience to it." Starscream fell heavily to the slab again and dropped his chin to his fist. "A sense of humour too," he muttered under his breath. "It's taken inspiration from the natives of this planet, clearly."

Megatron's noise crinkled. "And how, exactly, would _my_ coding have gotten into _your_ offspring?"

Starscream jabbed a claw at his scans behind him, "The same way the offspring came out of me."

Megatron spluttered, an uncharacteristic, and rather comedic, action for him. "I never-" he glared at Blitzwing's surprise face, hot and indignant at the accusation. "I haven't touched you in millennia."

Starscream smirked. This was almost all worth it to see Megatron so flustered. "Oh, haven't you?"

Megatron glared darkly. "Blitzwing," he growled, not taking his optics off Starscream. "Clear the room."

Blitzwing looked disappointed at having to miss what he knew was going to be prime gossip, but slinked off anyway. Outside Starscream heard him switch to Hothead and punch the rock wall in frustration. It was followed by a furious curse as he inevitably hurt himself, and then Random's signature cackle.

Now in silence, Megatron carefully detached the sleeping limpet from his chassis and lowered him into Starscream's waiting arms. The action brought them close together. Starscream could smell Megatron's breath. Oil and energon.

Megatron straightened back up again abruptly. "That," he began. "Was one time-"

Starscream felt like laughing, recalling the awkward, frantic, emotionally charged 'face they had had between a dozen assassination attempts and deaths. "Once is all it takes."

"It hardly counts-"

"Granted, it was quick..." Starscream agreed, shrugging.

"It wasn't qu-" Megatron cut himself off with a furious scoff, his glare darkening further, "Starscream-"

"I thought you'd be happy," Starscream sniffed, opening up his arms. "Not only have you found a way to repopulate your entire faction, but your future little minions are all going to carry your 'superior' coding too."

"More of a liability than a 'minion' now though," Megatron sighed, looking at the sleeping, useless seeker in Starscream's arms. "How long before he reaches mechhood?"

"Difficult to say," Starscream teased, "but I've had this one over a week now and he hasn't grown at all."

Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.


End file.
